The End
by Invader Insane
Summary: Master Cyclonis is dying. Master Cyclonis is dead. Either way, those around her refuse to let her die without a fight.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Storm Hawks. I never will.

I briefly thought about adding a quote or definition in this space before dismissing such an idea. It feels fine the way it is.

-

I'm dying. That's what I believe. I feel the pain shooting up my wounded, practically useless, leg, ripping through my nerves and sending each one ablaze. I want to scream out but stay silent. They cannot find me. They will not find me.

I grit my teeth. A single tear, brought on by this pain, creeps down my ashen face. I can't hold it back anymore. This is unbearable. I lift my head and finally let it loose. I give an agonizingly loud shriek, a howl almost. I am frightened, I admit, but I'm in more pain than anything else.

"Cyclonis," I hear a familiar voice say my name, sounding just as frightened as I felt. Damnit. _Damnit._

It's impossible for them to not have heard me. They'll be coming to kill me any minute now. Oh, but what a sight I must be: drenched from the waist down in my own blood.

Worst of all, my vision is blurring. I shake my head frantically, trying desperately to clear it but to no avail.

"Cyclonis!" The voice shouts, but it's far off now. I lay my head on the cold, metal wall, savoring the affect it has on my now numb cheek. I close my eyes and inhale the familiar fumes of Cyclonia that had made their way in through a vent overhead. I'm fading faster than I first expected.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a deafening reverberation. My eyes flutter open briefly, only to creak closed again. There is a pause, a gasp, then a sob. I feel arms wrap around me, and hear a frantic heart beat thrumming in my ear. This is the end. This is the end of Master Cyclonis. Her life was a doomed one, anyways.

I'm dead. That is what I believe.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Storm Hawks.

Fear is strong.

----

I wonder what they'll do if I live. Will they kill me in a short and painless sort of way or draw out my death, continuously slicing and stabbing until my last breath deteriorates into the sky? Have they already cut my throat just to watch the blood well up, only to pour out into a ghastly, crimson fountain? Will they finally realize that I, too, am human and capable of bleeding? Would they even care?

All these theories and guesses have a flaw, though.

I'm breathing, but it's a painful gush, rushing in and out of my lungs at an uneven pace. My head throbs from every area, and I feel nothing outside of my body.

But I hear the faint murmur of voices. I can't make out words, only incoherent disquisition, like a mutter or something you've said under your breath.

I feel panic suddenly bite at me. They've found me. I'm to die at this very moment, not yet having accomplished anything I've set out to do. This is the end. The last glimmer of hope I had for surviving snuffs out.

My heart accelerates, beating painfully over and over again. It's going to burst, I can feel it. My breathing gets faster and more ragged. I feel my eyes twitch under their lids, frantic and searching in the darkness.

I can't stand this. Let me out. I want out. Kill me, kill me now. No, no. Someone needs to protect me. _I need protection…_

A single voice breaks through the dark veil that surrounds my mind. "Help her. _Help her!"_

And then, suddenly…, the arms are there again, wrapping me up and pulling me close. Another frenzied heart beat thrums in my ear. Though it's no longer my own heart, I feel connected to it, almost as if it's shielding mine from death.

I let out a long exhale, a sigh of relief almost, as my breathing regulates again, becoming less labored by the seconds. Another sigh of relief is emitted from someone near me.

"Good work, Aerrow."

My eyes snap open. The words _I need protection _echo tauntingly in my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own storm Hawks.

This writing style hurts my brain.

---

I am stone-faced as they strap me down to the bed. They do so with gentle hands and soft words. I don't understand why they would even bother. I am a murderer in their amaurotic eyes.

"Don't move, Cyclonis," Piper whispers, placing the brown leather strap over my arms and chest. I say nothing. Inside my head I am cursing, screaming barbaric words, threats, anything. But the words don't make their way to my dry lips. They stay inside, crashing furiously around in my head and driving me insane.

I gaze up at the rust-covered ceiling, my eyes searching for something that clearly isn't there as they harness the last strap over my waist. These are restraints, meant to keep me from thrashing around like a trapped, crazed animal. They both take a step back and scan over the knots they tied to keep the bands in place. Aerrow strides forward again, tightening one. I can feel its rough underbelly on my skin. It is cold, and chill bumps spread across my flesh.

They turn away from me, and the silence stretches to meet their distance.

"Why?" I manage to croak out of my raw throat.

"I'll get some water for you," Piper mutters, hurrying out of the room. She leaves me alone with the leader. I never thought that would ever happen, especially since she defended him so when I had come to destroy him. Then again, the world is changing so dramatically, that it's hard to tell what could and will happen. It used to be so easy, too.

I shift my gaze over to the boy who stands uncomfortably in front of the door. He doesn't meet my eyes for good reason, I suppose, because they're probably bloodshot and deranged looking… how unflattering.

"You know, it was in this very room I came to kill you," I say absent mindlessly. "So why?" I ask again. I feel idiotic for repeating myself.

"Why what?" Aerrow counters, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. They lift as he realizes what I mean. "Oh, that." He walks back towards me, hesitantly at first. "I don't know," he says, standing over me. "I mean, it's not like you've ever done anything good for us, for _anyone_. You destroy everything. You kill innocent people. Why would anyone want to save _you_?" I watch as he struggles to say these words, his fists clenching and his teeth grinding together. He looks like The Dark Ace, I notice.

He stares down at me, his face contorted with some inner conflict.

"You are so much like him," I whisper hoarsely. "Dark Ace… did you survive?"

The room is spinning. Aerrow's form begins to blur until it no longer resembles him. It is the Dark Ace, his eyes lacking their usual hawk-like edge. He caresses my face with his rough hands.

"No, Master, I did not survive," Dark Ace tells me and gives a small, rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I failed you…" he closes his eyes and crumples to the ground, as if he'd been hit by some unknown force. "I'm sorry, Master," he wheezes.

Dark Ace's blood streams across the floor, easing its way into every crack and crevice. I scream because I cannot help him. I scream because I am frustrated. I scream because life is so _unfair for taking him away from me._

_---_

**On a side note, damnit, people, update your Master Cyclonis fan fictions. **


End file.
